


domesticity/intimacy meme fills

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Asexual Character, Cat/Human Hybrids, M/M, Scars, mama kink, powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>accidentally ficced instead of drabbled on most of these ;;</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. laychen: moving in together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you want to come say hi to me on [tumblr](taonsil.tumblr.com) °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: xingdae 15 or 16!!! pls and thank
> 
> -  
> I went with 15. Moving in together. Hope you like it! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡

"So do we get to rewrite the house rules together?" Jongdae asks from behind the stack of boxes weighing against his chest. It's the third load he's had to carry up here and his arms are starting to protest. Yixing is on his fifth and isn't showing any sign of flagging yet; Jongdae may have to swoon when he's less occupied. "Cause we might have different ideas about what is and isn't acceptable."

Yixing nudges him with an elbow as he squeezes past into the kitchen area. "I'm not letting you move in if you aren't house trained."

"Too late." Jongdae sets down the box right where he's standing as an act of defiance. And so he can massage his biceps where a burn is starting to set in. ‘Stuff' is written on the side of the box, and Jongdae has to seriously question what the hell kind of _stuff_ he owns. "I'm here now. You'll just have to train me."

Yixing hums in agreement as he lines the box up with the edge of the counter and carefully eases it up. Jongdae pouts at his back. That was a good line totally gone to waste, and they definitely deserve the break Jongdae was hoping it'd lead to. On to plan B.

"There's still more to bring up," Yixing says when Jongdae's arms snake around his waist, but the look he gives Jongdae over his shoulder is soft, amiable to some delay. Yixing is a proactive person, though, and he doesn't want Jongdae living out of boxes. This is _their_ home now. "I thought we could make a start on unpacking things tonight."

"Tonight," Jongdae repeats with a little wiggle, "I can't get used to knowing I don't have to leave. It's gonna be so good having all the time we want."

"And privacy," Yixing adds as he turns, taking hold of Jongdae's arms and pulling them back around himself. It takes a moment to register why Jongdae is grinning up at him like that. Oh. Privacy. They didn't get much of that with Jongdae still living at home and Yixing's previous roommate more the type to leave a noise disturbance notice under Yixing's door than just have the decency to turn some music up.

"Lots of privacy," Jongdae agrees. Tips up on his toes to nose along Yixing's jaw, grin against his throat. "Privacy in every room."

Yixing doesn't point out that that's only a grand total of three rooms. Maybe they don't have to start unpacking tonight.


	2. sulay: a sexy touch in a not necessarily sexy place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cottonchannie sent: Sulay~ 23
> 
> -  
> (~‾⌣‾)~  
> hhhh I tried to keep to this weird dynamic they have where jm seems pretty avoidant of Yixing’s attention

  
"Would you let me?" Yixing ventures. Carefully, carefully, because Junmyeon has a habit of flinching away from him. "You've looked uncomfortable all morning."

Junmyeon spares Yixing's raised hands, clenching and opening in mimic of a massage, a quick glance before he stares back down at the floor. He can't even reach the spot on his back that's twinging, so he's just pawing at his shoulder in some kind of consolation.

"It's only an interview. I'm not going to be straining it." Junmyeon rolls his shoulder. It doesn't help. "We've got stuff for sore muscles back at the dorm." Not that he's been using them in the week since he pulled something during practice — he's just not found the time.

Yixing smiles pleasantly and sidles a seat closer. The others are all arriving from different places; Kyungsoo can have his assigned chair back when he gets here. "I've been told I'm quite good. I know how distracting a pain like that can be." He risks extending a hand towards Junmyeon, who gives it a wary look but doesn't try to bite it off. That's a step in the right direction. "Just a few minutes. I'm sure I can help."

Either in defeat or admiration for Yixing's persistence, Junmyeon nods. It's barely there, but it's a definite yes. Yixing's maybe a little more pleased than he should be about it, but he likes Junmyeon. It's so rare that he's actually able to feel he's giving something back for Junmyeon's never ending task of keeping all in order.

Junmyeon removes his jacket and folds it over the seat beside him, then turns so the chair back isn't in Yixing's way. He looks tense, but Yixing's hoping to see to that.

Yixing's touch is firm but measured when he presses his fingers to Junmyeon's spine, starting a slow, walking pressure downwards. "Tell me when I find it," Yixing gently prompts, but the sudden sound and twitch Junmyeon gives when his thumb curves in below his shoulder blade answers well enough. "It might feel more uncomfortable at first," he says as he holds Junmyeon's shoulder steady, balling the other hand into a fist.

"We've all had physio before," Junmyeon replies, sullen rather than snappy now. And while that may be true, it still makes him arch away a little, how firm Yixing's knuckles feel through the thin material of his shirt. Yixing wordlessly, effortlessly pulls him back and holds him steady, and Junmyeon purses his lips to silence his appreciation for that.

Yixing was being modest in saying he's _quite good_ at this. It's agony for the first thirty seconds, but after that Junmyeon feels as though he could just melt right onto the floor. He loses track of how long Yixing's been working his back for, and he loses the motivation to grit his teeth and not make a sound along with it when Yixing's hand ventures to the tight knot at the nape of his neck. Junmyeon has no idea how he's going to be coherent enough for an interview after this.

It makes him startle a little when there's a sudden burst of noise from down the hallway. Oh right, they have other members.

"Sounds like we're done," Yixing says close to his ear. He winds down the touch gently and gives Junmyeon's shoulder a little pat to signal that it's over. Junmyeon doesn't have the strength to brush Yixing off when he brackets Junmyeon with his hands to make sure he doesn't wobble as he turns in his chair.

Jongdae is first in, followed by Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. They're mid-conversation, and honestly Junmyeon's feeling a little too dazed for being affronted that no one greeted him. He brushes the creases from his shirt and tries to straighten himself up a bit, and— _oh_.

Yixing leans in to slap hands with Jongdae and gives Kyungsoo a little nod before retreating to his own seat at the back. Kyungsoo steps around and lets out a good-natured sigh at the noise around them as he sinks down beside Junmyeon. "Is your back still giving you trouble?" he asks. Junmyeon looks distinctly uncomfortable fidgeting about in his chair.

"No. Yes. Yeah, I. Yeah. I'll have it looked at. Thanks."

Ok. Kyungsoo quirks an eyebrow. Junmyeon's too busy carefully positioning his jacket in his lap to notice.


	3. suchen: exploring one another's bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: *hugs tightly* i love you and your ficlets! 23 leading to 24. Or just 23 if its easier for you. Dont want to be too much of a bother ^_^ suchen Thank you!!!!!
> 
> -  
> I’m so sorry this took so long! work and Tao stuff just overwhelmed me the last week or so. Thank you so much~~ I combined the two.  
> powers au, tw for scars

Jongdae has shown plenty of people his battle scars. Usually when he's a little drunk, a little loud. To people he knows will have an easy, fleeting interest in the local hero. It makes him more secure in his own skin to see the imperfections admired. They're impressive; make him even cooler, look even braver, so he's told.

He doesn't feel brave right now. Junmyeon isn't some teenager who'll say it's like a free tattoo.

Junmyeon was glowingly happy on their date, relieved to be out of the office and talking a mile a minute about a client that he knows Jongdae would have found hilarious. The jokes didn't really deliver as well second-hand, but his own amusement about them set Jongdae off laughing too. They're opposing elements and sometimes Jongdae teases that they shouldn't work so well together, but it's been months of a friendship that welcomed kisses, then dates, then tonight. Jongdae isn't great about opening up.

Junmyeon looks horrified, and Jongdae doesn't blame him. "I'm so sorry, Jongdae." Junmyeon isn't usually the type who can't keep his hands to himself, but Jongdae's been inviting him in for coffee that's turned out to actually be coffee for _months_. He'd thought maybe Jongdae was just being chivalrous knowing his dating history with men (none, ever, not even a little crush) and waiting for him to make the first move. That had definitely seemed to be the case, judging by how eagerly Jongdae left his side of the couch for Junmyeon's lap when invited. Until Junmyeon had tried to fumble a hand under the hem of his sweater, and Jongdae _yowled_. "I'm so sorry," he says again, raking his fingers through his hair, "Did I just totally misread things?"

It'd be easier to just go with that. Jongdae knew this would have to happen some time, though, and he's not going to let Junmyeon feel at fault. "What? No, Myeonie, it's—" he starts, but Junmyeon's flailing his hands and barrels on.

"If you wanted to wait longer that's— if you're not into things like that it's fine, I'm so sorry for just—"

"It's _fine_ , Junmyeon," Jongdae says more forcefully, and confusingly that only makes his expression even tighter.

"Then," Junmyeon wrings his hands. He really is so sweet, Jongdae has no idea how Junmyeon fell for an asshole like him (though admittedly he is a _very_ charming asshole). "Did I hurt you?"

Shit. Jongdae's heart drops from trying to inch higher in his throat right down to the pit of his stomach. Junmyeon felt them, so that's that. "They don't hurt," he says after swallowing down the awful taste that just filled his mouth. "It just caught me off guard."

He and Junmyeon met through the academy, but Junmyeon chose paperwork over being out in the field. He creates little whirlpools in the water cooler to liven up the office and keeps the plants topped up and listens in on people's weekend plans to divert rain; they're two very different people with two very different approaches to their powers. Jongdae doesn't talk much about his work when they're together, never about any near misses or that he's expected to take at least another ten years to master lightning that doesn't sometimes backfire surges of energy into his veins.

Junmyeon doesn't look all that comfortable about continuing when he was the one who couldn't be patient and caused this, but he _likes_ Jongdae. He really likes him. "Is there anything I can say?" he asks, "I just— if there's any way I can.."

"It's not you," Jongdae says, a little annoyed. He's been trying to make that clear. "You're really nice, Myeonie."

Junmyeon squares his shoulders, for the little extra height it gives him. "I am no such thing," he says, lips pouting, and Jongdae kind of feels like that only makes his case worse. He even argues nicely. "I can't be if I've upset you so much."

Jongdae sighs. This is getting a little out of his depth; usually they just go. Junmyeon was a friend first, though, and maybe it was a mistake to let that change. "I guess it's just, I dunno. I was putting off you having to know. I mean." He scrubs a hand through his hair. This sucks. Other people's feelings, easy. Talking about himself isn't a strong point. All heroes have a failing somewhere, right? "I know you knew I had them, I just.. the extent of it, I dunno. This has been really nice, y'know? I didn't want to scare you off."

"Jongdae." Junmyeon's apprehension is concern now. Hurt, a little, so earnest. "Why would you think that? I really like you."

"I don't mean I think you're superficial. They upset people. People feel sorry for me. The last.." Jongdae pauses to wipe a palm over his mouth. Digging this back up is not something he enjoys doing, but Junmyeon looks too much like a kicked puppy right now. "The last few people I was with ran screaming. And yeah, that did set me back for a while, but before them— she just felt too upset by it in the end. We tried. Too many dark thoughts, y'know?"

It takes a moment for Junmyeon to respond. "I understand why you have concerns," he says. Jongdae purses his lips. "But I don't think I know anyone who's lived with what we have and not come out with something to show for it."

Jongdae frowns. He doesn't want to be as rude as to say that Junmyeon really doesn't understand, but he sits behind a desk all day. He doesn't work with incident reports or file injuries. "It's worse than you're imagining," he confidently assumes, because Junmyeon is so damn nice about everything else. "And I'd rather this ended because we know that than because you tried to be ok with it."

To Jongdae, Junmyeon has always been the best of an elemental power. The rain that clears away a storm, a river that would never break its banks. Junmyeon is wet earth, mist. Warm, lapping waves. When he steps nearer Jongdae braces for emotion, but all Junmyeon does is raise his hands to his collar, eyes steady on Jongdae. He pops the top two buttons, parts the material, keeps his chin raised. Jongdae looks at what Junmyeon is showing him and remembers that the ocean can kill while calm on the surface.

  
"I couldn't tell you how many times I've swept myself over." Junmyeon can laugh about that now. It was a long time ago. "I can move water, but I can't breathe in it. When I was learning I'd panic and lose control."

Jongdae's fingers leave the raised marks below Junmyeon's collarbone for a long, pink line at his waist. It's not an intentional prompt, but Junmyeon obligingly continues: "I've uprooted things. Definitely caused a few unnatural disasters on my way."

"I never thought." Jongdae nuzzles his cheek against Junmyeon's shoulder. It was probably stupid of him to assume that Junmyeon went straight into office work without ever having attempted to use his power. He feels kind of stupid anyway, for treating him so cautiously when it was on Junmyeon's lead that they ended up here. Junmyeon shirtless in his bed is great, but the circumstances could be improved on.

Junmyeon insisted that this wasn't a trade-off. He wanted Jongdae to know that he wasn't alone — definitely wasn't dealing with someone who wouldn't know what to expect. Junmyeon's scars are nothing like Jongdae's in form or placement, but he has more and more the longer Jongdae is looking. "Water somehow didn't seem as damaging," he says as he smoothes a palm down Junmyeon's side, feeling welts he can't see. Junmyeon lifts a little and turns so his hand can continue its path.

"It's not as immediate in most cases," he agrees. Jongdae winces at the keloid worn out over his shoulder.

  
Jongdae's scars seem almost decorative in comparison. They're raised, spidery and creeping out in branching tendrils over his back. It was his left arm that took the brunt of the last surge, and that's what he offers Junmyeon first.

Jongdae said they didn't hurt, but Junmyeon still takes his forearm in both hands so carefully. Jongdae's not exactly uncomfortable with it, but Junmyeon's fingers ghosting over the raised skin at the crook of his elbow is a kind of intimacy he hadn't been prepared for.

"I mean," Jongdae shrugs a shoulder and tilts his head away, hoping the shadow will cover his colouring cheeks. "I think they're kinda cool. Yours are like, proper tragic hero cool. Mine look like they were designed."

Junmyeon hums. "Do enough good years service and they might put you in a comic one day."

That'd be pretty cool. Jongdae's about to ask what his superhero name would be, but the soft press of Junmyeon's lips to his inner wrist stops him dead.

No one has touched him there — anywhere, really, since the last three surges made the eruptions under his skin so evident. It's so incredibly sensitive. It's _Junmyeon_ , and that means more than Jongdae thinks he could tell him. Jongdae is already aching when Junmyeon follows the raised skin from his inner arm and up over his shoulder.

"You," he says with a subtle shift of his hips, "Aren't allowed to say a word, by the way. You're going to say something cheesy in a moment, I can feel it."

Junmyeon looks scandalised in a soft, entirely unphased way. As if he would. Jongdae knows him well."I'll just stick to touching, shall I?"

"Yeah." Jongdae's eyes narrow playfully and Junmyeon dutifully returns his fingers to the slope of Jongdae's shoulder. "You do that."


	4. suchen: staring into each other's eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sayurisinner sent: I would like to read all, but if it's too much just choose the best :) 5 for SuTao, 14 for ChenTao and 21 for SuChen~~~
> 
> -  
> Here you go~ I hope you like them! ◟(ˊᗨˋ)◞

Jongdae's never been in love before this. Not _in love_. Birds-singing-and-sun-shining in love. Neither he nor Junmyeon are the type for playing games with their feelings, so Jongdae's confession had been pretty blunt. Easy, even, confident of reciprocation.

Jongdae fell in love with Junmyeon long before their first date, and it's not been anywhere near as disgusting as he'd expected (which is saying something; Junmyeon's the cheesiest romantic Jongdae's ever met, but love apparently gives you a very high tolerance to secondhand embarrassment). It was an easy ride falling for a best friend who so obviously felt the same, and making it official hasn't changed much but how often Jongdae gets to kiss him and indulge in some awful pet names. It's like being given a permission slip to stop being not-weird out of politeness.

  
"What?" Junmyeon's only two sips into his morning coffee and still looks at least three quarters dead. "You're moving back out if you're going to sit there staring like that every morning."

"Not _every_ morning," Jongdae grins and repositions his chin on his hand. "Just the ones that are an occassion."

Junmyeon makes a disapproving sound. "It's not your first morning here. And we didn't have sex, and we both have work," he lists, counting with taps of his fingers to the coffee mug. "So what's the occasion?"

Jongdae nods solemnly. It is in fact his second morning as an official resident. He's got a long shift today, and they most definitely didn't get up to anything more unwholesome than lining the sheets with a liberal coating of crumbs last night. "Today," Jongdae says with a little flourish of his fingers for drama, "I'm telling everyone at work that we're official. And then I'm going to be spoilt rotten with congratulations. And then I'm going to come home to you."

Junmyeon would be more receptive to this if he were more of a morning person. Jongdae sort of likes that he's not though, really, the grumpiness is terribly endearing. "I have bags under my eyes," he says, "Can't you dote on me in the evening when the light isn't so good?"

Technically Jongdae could do this any time of day. Being in love is so weird and fluttery and gross, and he's far from tired of it. "Sorry Myeonie, you subscribed to a 24 hour service. The cancellation fee is _huge_. "

"Stop," Junmyeon groans, again when Jongdae waggles his eyebrows. For someone so opposed to being lovingly gazed at Junmyeon hasn't taken his eyes off Jongdae once.


	5. chentao: morning sex

Zitao always sounds a little desperate, a little panicked when Jongdae starts touching him. Jongdae stopped the first few times it happened, concerned that Zitao was protesting. It's just how he responds, though, easily overcome with love and attention and good, firm hands.

It's Sunday so they have pretty much the entire day to themselves, but Jongdae woke up ready to continue where they left off last night when Zitao crashed out fast asleep. Zitao is more of an early bird than he is, already up and thinking about breakfast when Jongdae dozily approached with one thing in mind. Zitao's still gripping the spoon he was stirring tea with and Jongdae's already got a hand down the front of his yoga pants.

"Mast—" No, Jongdae doesn't like that. Not as much as Zitao does. " _Hyung_ ," Zitao mewls, "I was about to come back. I made your drink."

Jongdae pauses on an upward stroke that makes Zitao's tail flick. He can see that — the milk carton is dented, and there's water all over the counter top along with the scattered contents of a teabag that didn't withstand Zitao's claws. Zitao was born a show cat, not a servicer, and that's always been clear in how cluelessly sloppy he is at performing helpful household tasks. Jongdae's told him again and again that he took Zitao in as a regular roommate when all that went wrong, not as some kind of hybrid liberating hero, but Zitao's been his diligent little (big) housekeeper ever since.

Mindful of his tail, Jongdae steers Zitao back until he's supporting himself against the counter. "Would you mind if I had it a little later?" Jongdae asks, free hand reaching for the sweet spot behind Zitao's right ear. Zitao's knees give a little when he finds it.

"It'll be cold." Zitao pouts despite the distractions, though his eyes are growing heavy-lidded. He made that carefully and lovingly with his own two paws.

Jongdae increases the pressure of both hands. "I like cold tea. I'll drink it, I promise," Jongdae assures his sulking, trembling kitty. He tilts forward on his toes and licks up into Zitao's mouth, and Zitao's whole body vibrates with a purr. He tastes of the milk left out on the counter, and Jongdae could guarantee he drank from the carton.

It's not common, Jongdae's heard, to get down on your knees for a hybrid. Zitao didn't have the training that the service breeds go through, but the cautious subservience of creatures born to masters took a long time to ease him out of. Jongdae doesn't really care what comes as a societal standard when he's in the privacy of his own home, though, and he loves the way Zitao responds to the strange, often wet human things Jongdae does.

Zitao's digging his claws into the worktop, tail swaying frantically and tickling over the back of Jongdae's hand where he's gripping Zitao's thigh steady. He's never really gotten the hang of doing this for Jongdae in return, however many times Jongdae's demonstrated — teeth too sharp, tongue just that little too sandpaper for comfort. Jongdae's not looking for a trade-off, though, he just likes the way Zitao looks down at him, slitted pupils almost round. How Zitao is so careful to keep his claws in when he paws at Jongdae's hair, how undemandingly appreciative he always is for things that make him purr. How soft and content and entirely loved out he looks when it's over.

"Hyung, hyung—" Zitao's ears are back and flat to his hair when Jongdae glances up, and he knows what that means. It makes Zitao's gasps sharpen into yowls when Jongdae only swallows him down deeper the more hot and tingling and aching he feels, persistent bobs of his head that make Zitao grasp back at the counter again for something he can extend his claws into.


	6. sutao: taking care of each other while sick

Zitao is always too heavy handed with the lemon in his tea, while Junmyeon is too generous with the honey. It's Zitao that found the energy to drag himself out of bed first, though, so Junmyeon just props himself up with a pillow and graciously accepts.

"How are you feeling?" Junmyeon croaks. The heat of the mug held to his chest and the steam rising up around his throat is the only thing reassuring him that he's still human.

Zitao just shrugs. His voice is barely there when he says, "Sorry if I kept you awake." They seem to both have caught the same germs, but Junmyeon got away with a sore throat while Zitao's had a hacking cough for the last few days. Junmyeon sleeps like the dead when he's sick anyway though, and he's glad for the company.

"Being sick isn't so bad if you're not by yourself," he says as assurance that Zitao doesn't need to go back to his own room. "The others probably feel safer with us in quarantine together."

Zitao makes a loud, congested sound in agreement as he drops his heavy head to Junmyeon's shoulder. Baekhyun had watchful eyes and a shielded face the whole time he was out in the kitchen. "I can't remember what feeling well is like," he mourns. Junmyeon gives his hair a soft pat; comfort and to prevent him looking up while Junmyeon is grimacing over the sourness of his tea. "Umma." Zitao sniffs again, and Junmyeon takes the prompt to reach and grab a handful of tissues to pass over.

With company or without being sick is still no fun at all, and they're both already a little too heated and damp for how tightly Zitao decides to curl himself around Junmyeon once he's done blowing his nose and had another good coughing session. He settles fast, though, and after the night he had Junmyeon isn't going to stop him. Maybe Junmyeon can catch up on some sleep too, he thinks, and then sneezes violently.

 


	7. sutao: first big fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chenee-chen sent: Sutao first huge fight
> 
> -  
> here you go~~ ( ๑ ❛ ڡ ❛ ๑ )

Junmyeon's been pacing around the same spot by the door for so long it's a wonder he hasn't worn the carpet thin. Zitao's never left without a word of where he's going before, and he's never refused so many calls. The last, smaller fight they had he'd caved after the first three. Junmyeon stops at seven and calls Jongdae instead.

Jongdae tells him to calm down. He promises that no, nothing bad is going to happen, and that yes, of course they'll get it all fixed once Zitao is back. Zitao is dramatic, he reminds Junmyeon, and he'll probably hate being away from home with things unresolved once the novelty of storming out has worn off.

"It's not like him to do something like this," Junmyeon protests, but it's not like they've had many fights to refer back to. Junmyeon didn't blame Zitao for being upset, but it's Junmyeon's work. He can't just cancel business trips because they fall on birthdays. Zitao has plenty of friends to celebrate with, and they can Skype, and.. yes, maybe Junmyeon had been a little too defensive of it not mattering. It does matter. He should have sympathised with Zitao's side more than he fought his own, he realised that the moment Zitao turned away. "What if he hates me. What if he doesn't come back before dark? Should I call his friends?"

No, no, no. Just calm down, nice and calm, Jongdae says. Junmyeon isn't planning to comply, but then there's the thunk of a key in the door and he cuts the call off before Jongdae can offer any further advice.

Zitao's wearing sunglasses, but Junmyeon can easily tell he's been crying. Zitao hesitates in the doorway, not having expected Junmyeon to be right there waiting. "I," he starts after swallowing hard, but the tremble rises straight back up. "I'm still mad about it."

Junmyeon nods fervently. "I shouldn't have—"

"I shouldn't have," Zitao cuts in, echoes. He pushes the door closed and slips his glasses off, puffs out his cheeks in a heavy exhale. And then it's anyone's guess who made the first move, but they're arms and legs tangled. Junmyeon nearly trips and Zitao steadies him. They both stumble a little, feet uncoordinated around each other.

"That was the worst, worst half hour of my _whole_ life," Zitao wails over Junmyeon's head. He's making Junmyeon's hair wet, but Junmyeon's doing the same to the neck of Zitao's shirt, so all's fair.

Junmyeon sniffs loudly. That's the problem with never fighting — no resilience. He repositions himself under Zitao's chin after wiping his eyes on his shirt again and says, "I'm sorry."

Zitao makes a little sound in acceptance and squeezes his arms around Junmyeon tighter. He's so tiny. Too tiny to scare like that. "Me too," he says, nuzzling into Junmyeon's soft hair. "I'm gonna dent your boss' car."

Junmyeon frowns. And considers his work-life balance. And then Zitao is pressing loud, congested kisses to his hair.

"I'll tell you what number his space is."


	8. sutao: learning what the other person likes sexually

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sutaoho sent: ~~~ SUTAO 30 ♡♡♡
> 
> -  
> ask for mama kink and I will provide (*˘︶˘*)
> 
> THOUGH UM this ended up happening after crying with cat over the rumour that jm went out there to meet him so credit/blame for at least half of it is hers. This is all about that. I accidentally a whole fic. It’s maybe 90/10 angst to prompt it’s a sex prompt but there’s no sex I’m sorry it was cathartic I love you don’t be mad (;;˘･з･˘)

Junmyeon arrives at the apartment complex strictly in business mode. He doesn't take his sunglasses off until he reaches the door. His reflection in the mirrored elevator maybe only looked so set with determination because of it; in the pause between knocking on the door and it easing open a lump starts forming in his throat.

Zitao looks well. Starkly well, healthier than Junmyeon has seen him. That's good. Really good — Junmyeon has longed to see him rest. "Hi," Zitao says softly as he steps aside. He looks healthy, but probably last night he slept as fitfully as Junmyeon did, lines worn below his eyes.

"This is only a quick visit." Junmyeon's voice sounds strange to himself around that lump. Zitao is lingering at the door, clearly not happy that Junmyeon breezed straight past. "I'm with people and I shouldn't have really taken the time out, it's thrown out their schedule."

"If it was inconvenient you shouldn't have come," Zitao says, then swallows hard. He's getting a lump, too. It was mostly exciting when their texts changed from brief, tired descriptions of their days to tentative and then confirmed plans that Junmyeon was coming over here. Zitao's not sure what he was expecting, really, but he's always optimistic. "Just because you're here didn't mean you had to come."

Junmyeon focuses very hard on folding his sunglasses and slipping them into his bag so he doesn't have to take notice of how much heavier Zitao's accent is. "Yes it did, Tao. We can't pretend what's happening isn't happening."

Zitao isn't the type to hedge around something, and despite being thankful for the lack of temptation to his willpower, Junmyeon hurts to see Zitao so hesitant to come nearer. He just wants to touch, and Zitao's wringing the hem of his shirt because if he wasn't Zitao already would have. "We've already talked about it. We text about it all the time." Zitao looks at Junmyeon like he's definitely the one in the wrong right now, and it's not fair. "You're right here, why can't we just—"

"Because I'm here—" Junmyeon cuts in. Junmyeon's terrible at this when it's Zitao. It was never supposed to be Zitao, and neither of them know how this is supposed to work. "I'm here as your leader, Tao. I have to think about that."

"Then don't be." Zitao's voice is getting pitchy. Yes, they do have things they should discuss, but they could discuss them at any time through numerous means. It's not that simple, of course it's fucking not, but Zitao will be damned if the one opportunity they have to do something other than talk goes to waste. "You're mama, too. Just be my mama."

There's no _please_ about it. Zitao simplifies what he deems over complicated, and reducing this all down to only being about them right now is seeing it far too in black and white.

Junmyeon rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, feeling the grit and sweat below his eyelashes. This isn't going to plan. He'd thought enough time had passed that he could somehow be stoic about this, treat Zitao like a colleague. That's not what they are, though, it's not familiar enough to fall back on. Junmyeon loves him too much for this to have ever been that clearcut.

 

Junmyeon's angry with himself. Slow and smouldering, irritated by his bare feet on cold tile, the drag of his shirt seams over his back. In the smallest amount of defence, it was sweltering when he was walking here. Maybe he does need a shower. Junmyeon can't get his head around the disorientation of a long journey, the months of conflicting feelings he's had as Zitao's leader or as his.. something else, and that all of that is rinsing away down the drain right now. It's like nothing is different in here; this could be any time, any place. Life as normal. That's probably why Zitao was so forceful about convincing him to do it.

Zitao's been quiet since they got in, though, features tight. Maybe the magical properties of showers only work if both parties believe. Junmyeon sighs over the sound of the gentle spray, and it prompts Zitao into at least reaching out. His mama looks much the same as when Zitao last saw him, and he still gives Zitao the exact same look as he sweeps back his wet hair.

One of them has to make the first move, and while Junmyeon would consider that arguably he's gone beyond by actually coming all the way out here, he doesn't have all the time in the world for waiting.

"I guess you'll be wanting your hair washed," Junmyeon says, holding a hand out for a bottle. It's not a question, and Zitao doesn't waste time passing it to him. "Come down here." He gestures, but Zitao hardly needs reminding how this works.

It's the middle of the day and neither of them need to be in here, Zitao definitely didn't need a hairwash, and Junmyeon's inconvenienced a lot of people. The lather between Junmyeon's fingers comes up purple. His laugh makes Zitao want to keep him here forever and ever.

 

Hair rinsed and body soapy, Zitao has relaxed enough to expect this to be like usual. "mama," he says to draw Junmyeon's eyes away from the droplets running down the glass and back to him. Of course — Junmyeon's forgetting his duties. He tilts his head, and Zitao obligingly nestles against the crook of his neck where it's easier for Junmyeon to reach his shoulders.

Junmyeon's rubbing Zitao's shoulder blades and listening to his little groans when he almost asks how Zitao has been managing on his own all this time, but then no, maybe not. They're not talking about being apart right now, and a tiny part of Junmyeon really doesn't want to know if Zitao has possibly found someone else to fill this role. Junmyeon's messed up trying to juggle a professional and personal relationship so badly. Zitao whines at how firmly he presses with his thumbs.

Junmyeon lifts his hands away. "Anywhere else?"

"Yeah." Zitao just doesn't want to move. "Like, lower a bit, and in the middle, and the top of my shoulders."

"Pretty much everywhere, then." Junmyeon smiles when Zitao makes an irritated snuffling sound against his neck. He loves his baby, he doesn't mind. If anything this is relaxing Junmyeon too. He doesn't have to think too hard with the running water, focusing on which strokes of his thumbs get the right responses (most of them; he knows Zitao's body well).

Zitao's body soon responds under a familiar touch regardless of circumstances. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't really have to when they're this close. It's not like this is only the second (tenth, thirtieth?) time Junmyeon has obliged Zitao pressing half-hard into his hip, but it's the first time Zitao has breathed _mama_ into his shoulder at the squeeze of a slick, soapy hand. Because he's not anything else right now; not hyung, not leader, not just the bare fact of Junmyeon. He's Zitao's mama, and Zitao could cry at how safe that feels if it didn't make him want to be stronger for Junmyeon, too.

Junmyeon doesn't pause. He would maybe conceed that making this simple and easy is for the best right now, because he doesn't want to think about all of the things he should be doing instead of this. Stroking Zitao off in the shower definitely hadn't been part of his plans, but he'd be lying if he said he'd rather be sticking to those.

"mama," Zitao says again, nosing at Junmyeon's neck as he tries to adjust his position to stay cuddled in but wiggle a little nearer. He shuffles his feet, wraps his arms so entirely around Junmyeon's shoulders. He's muttering to himself about it and his voice sounds so thick. Junmyeon's free hand works up into his hair, gripping to hold him close.

"mama's got you," Junmyeon says to soothe, but it has the opposite effect. It nearly topples them back against the wall how forcefully Zitao jerks up into his grip, and it might take Junmyeon a little by surprise, but it's— it's never really seemed like that kind of thing before, but it evidently is now. They've never been in this kind of situation before; Junmyeon's good with playing along. It's easy when it's a role already so ingrained in him, all of Zitao's responses and how to draw them out of him second nature. "Good boy for mama," he murmurs, fingers digging in firm at Zitao's neck.

Junmyeon may have not actually needed to get clean when he got in here, but he certainly does now.

 

Junmyeon doesn't know his way around the apartment. He almost feels a little bashful when he realises he didn't take in any details at all of where Zitao has been living. It's nice, pretty open and orderly spare for the evidence of shopping trips everywhere.

He dried Zitao first, after he'd propped him up and cleaned them off, and Zitao wandered off presumably to the bedroom before Junmyeon was ready to follow.

"This way," Zitao calls unhelpfully, impatient, and Junmyeon follows his voice until he eventually finds the right door.

 

"You don't get scared here on your own?"

Junmyeon has dressed, because he needs to be out of here and back at his hotel. Zitao's warm and damp and leaving wet patches on Junmyeon's shirt where he's pressed back against him, but all Junmyeon does when he realises is pet Zitao's fluffy towel-dried hair.

"I don't much. I brought friends that stay here too." Zitao knows their time is fast running out and is getting more sullen by the minute. "I told them I was bringing a guy back here, so that's why there's no one else."

So Zitao cleared the place out in anticipation of Junmyeon's visit. Junmyeon doesn't know why that makes him laugh as much as it does. It's not like the luxury of a room where it wouldn't matter how much noise they made would be unappreciated, but Junmyeon hadn't even considered it on his way out here. For a moment it strikes him that Zitao might be disappointed that that wasn't how today went, but he still looks a little glazed from earlier. Maybe they should talk about earlier.

"But in the end it was just your mama," Junmyeon muses, nuzzling between Zitao's shoulderblades. That's about as motivated as he feels to tackle the subject, and Zitao just makes a little grumble in response. Maybe another time.

Zitao wriggles in Junmyeon's arms, trying to look back over his shoulder. "Not _just_ ," he says. He sounds like he's pouting. Junmyeon squeezes the arm around his waist tighter and presses slow, grazing kisses to his spine.


	9. sutao: exploring each other's bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinowolfie sent: Domesticity prompt: Sutao, 24. Exploring each other's bodies <3
> 
> -  
> ~(‾⌣‾~) (oops tbh)  
> ahhh ok. I hope punkmyeon is ok. I’ve been dying to write them with tao being the prim and proper one while jm is a terrible influence. And thus it got kinda long bc I’ve been thinking about this au for /so long/. I’m sorry I’m following these prompts so loosely OTL I hope you still like it even though I was greedy~ 
> 
> (Tao is so ace but he doesn’t know what that is yet)  
> (very specifically [this Junmyeon](http://38.media.tumblr.com/dfba3503db8e2ad9e9f89da82a798d86/tumblr_nmdz0ibh4W1t1ysd1o4_250.gif) and [this Tao](http://ww1.sinaimg.cn/large/a3d20197jw1etcqi8me71j21c2204atf.jpg) though!! (*´﹃｀*))

Zitao isn't allowed a lock on his bedroom door. Well, he's never actually asked for one, but he could guarantee the answer would be a flurry of accusing questions followed by a firm no. His parents aren't due home until tonight, but he's not taking any chances.

Junmyeon watches with amusement as Zitao lifts his desk chair over to the door and carefully tilts the back under the handle, minding not to knock the paint. He's surprisingly delicate for his strength and size and Junmyeon adores that. When Zitao kisses him and curls in so little, holds Junmyeon's shoulders like he's afraid to rest any weight on him. It makes Junmyeon want to run his fingers through Zitao's fluffy little head of hair and grip so tight.

"You should still only stay an hour," Zitao says as he turns back to his boyfriend, wringing his hands. Now he's barricaded them in it means something has to happen. Like, that's _why_ he wanted to make sure the door was safe, but an empty house and Junmyeon on his bed seemed a lot more exciting, less heart-poundingly terrifying in theory than in practice.

Junmyeon's only been here once before but he looks perfectly at home reclined on top the covers, the single speck of black and grey in a room of beige and pastels. When Zitao joins him he grimaces a little at the sight of Junmyeon's well-worn leather jacket thrown over his pillows.

"I'm sure I can be done with you in an hour." Junmyeon looks less intimidating when he smiles despite how many teeth it shows, and it breaks into a laugh at just how wide Zitao's eyes can go. He's so adorable. Zitao was the last person anyone expected to hook up with an unsuitable older guy, Zitao included, and he's still figuring out how to enjoy the novelty of it.

He definitely figured out that he enjoys making out, though, and Junmyeon considers relying on that a good move when pulling Zitao in for a kiss seems to relax him into this. Or distract him, at the least. The stud in Junmyeon's tongue always sees to that. Junmyeon hasn't minded in the least that anything beyond holding hands and a peck on the cheek has been a learning curve for his boy. Zitao's endearingly lacking self-awareness when it comes to this; he certainly wants to do it right, but so long as it feels good he's not bothered in the least whether he's doing it well.

 _This_ , though, their vaguely made plans to go a little further than clumsy hands over clothes, could definitely take some practice. Zitao's all bundled in again, and he's wearing a powder blue cardigan for Christ's sake. Junmyeon's keen, but even he's got his work cut out trying to get under that with a straight face.

Zitao is pliant when he's distracted, easy to roll onto his back and for Junmyeon to slot between his legs so long as they don't stop kissing in the process. There's so many buttons — cardigan and a dress shirt, but Junmyeon respects that Zitao's not used to getting rumpled up and takes his time. It's kind of funny, really, and the longer this is taking the more Zitao seems to be getting used to the idea. He doesn't help, admittedly, nor does he make any attempt to reciprocate. Which, Junmyeon's not going to complain if he has to do all the work, but it's not exactly encouraging.

"Doing ok?" Junmyeon asks with a peck to Zitao's chin. His face looks as hot as his clothed skin feels under Junmyeon's hands. Zitao gulps and gives a little nod. He's fine, why wouldn't he be fine, he's _totally_ not freaking out about getting naked in front of someone and the fact he skipped his last class to do this and that he's breaking literally every rule in his parent's book all in one afternoon. But then Junmyeon's fingers suddenly drop from toying with a particularly stubborn button at his chest to his belt, and it's so abrupt Zitao sort of wails.

"I'm not sure," he blurts, hands suddenly raised from his side and uncertainly pushed into Junmyeon's narrow shoulders. He's gone so tense. Not good. Junmyeon takes one look at him and knows this isn't the the kind of not sure nerves that might soothe over.

"You're ok," he says softly, using Zitao's grip on his shoulders as leverage to push himself upright and wiggle out from between his thighs. Junmyeon sweeps his hair up away from his face where his styled bangs are starting to wilt and worries the back of his lip piercing with his tongue while he settles aside and waits.

Zitao's hastily done up a few buttons and tugged his cardigan back around himself when he tries to speak. Junmyeon feels kind of awful to have spooked him so badly. "I'm sorry hyung, I know we said today ‘cause there's time, but— Are you mad?" He looks like he's going to cry.

Zitao's never dated before, or even fooled around with anyone (which, considering the problems they have between time, location, and privacy even with Junmyeon running to his own schedule, doesn't really surprise him). He's pretty easy to overwhelm with all of this being new, physically and emotionally.

"It's fine." Junmyeon sounds as cheery as possible, but Zitao doesn't look much less upset. "I don't mind, Tao," he says a little more firmly. Because really, he doesn't. It's not like an afternoon spent together is a bad thing however it plays out, and Junmyeon likes his fluffy little boyfriend more than enough to not throw a tantrum over his dick not getting a share of the love yet.

"But," Zitao protests. He's a pretty determined person, and he hates not going through with something once he's set his mind on it. Admittedly this is kind of different to sports or grades or beating Sehun's score on that old ddr machine they found in an arcade, but it feels even worse involving another person. Junmyeon doesn't look devastated, to be fair. "I'm sorry. I wanted— but, kinda not, I guess."

Junmyeon makes a thoughtful sound. He feathers his fingertips through Zitao's hair and smiles when Zitao turns towards him. He's just sulking, not scared. Good to know. "How about just me for now? Would you feel comfortable with that?"

Zitao's gaze drops from Junmyeon's eyes to the thick chain around his neck. Further, to the sharp line of his collarbones, how the loose, ragged neck of his shirt dips. He nods, and Junmyeon reaches for the hem.

 

It feels a lot more like Zitao is playing. Just taking a curious interest in Junmyeon's body, curled beside him and tracing muscle and ink with a clumsy, greedy touch. He's having fun, Junmyeon assumes from the kitten curl of his lips. It's a little ticklish, but that aside Junmyeon's got no problem with it.

"I didn't know you had so many tattoos," Zitao says in response to the soft grumbly sound Junmyeon makes at a sudden prod to his ribs. "I've never touched one before."

Junmyeon hums. "I'll show you the others another day. They're.. ah.." He's feeling too lazy to tease any more than a gesture down to his jeans, but it's enough to earn him a playful swat to his shoulder. Zitao's cardigan is soft, if a little itchy, against his bare skin. This is definitely one of the strangest hours Junmyeon's spent in bed with someone, but he's not complaining. Ah, right. An hour. "I think I've overstayed my time, baby boy."

The sound Zitao makes is more disappointed than worried. His cheek is so warm when he presses his face to Junmyeon's shoulder.

Junmyeon grins and pets Zitao's hair. Fun as teasing him is, it would actually be pretty bad for Zitao's parents to come home and find him here. He's seen Zitao's mother once, from a distance, and it didn't warm him to the idea of risking getting any closer. "You going to let me out?"

"Yeah," Zitao says around a pout, and twenty minutes later he does.


End file.
